


Another Begins

by dotfic



Series: The Ketchup 'verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort Sex, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pillow & Blanket Forts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 05:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15332964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: Cas has witnessed the first moments of life on earth and observed humanity for millennia. Yet somehow, he’s still not prepared for this.





	Another Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tyler Knott Gregson. Set in the [Ketchup ‘verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/395362), which is slightly AU starting at the end of S10. Thank you inplayruns for the beta read. Written as part of the #DecadeofDestiel celebration.

Cas has witnessed the first moments of life on earth and observed humanity for millennia. Yet somehow, he’s still not prepared for this, the spray of freckles across Dean’s back as he sleeps with the sheet covering the lower half of his body next to Cas in the bed. 

Cas’s grace is slowly restoring its strength after he blew it out as part of the spell to remove the Mark of Cain for Dean. He doesn’t need sleep now, so he has way too much time to think. Sometimes, that’s not a bad thing. 

He is getting used to this--sharing Dean’s room and Dean’s bed, the feeling of Dean’s hands on his body that Cas is still adjusting to the concept of being his own, his mouth hot against Cas’s. He brings the books he wants to study more closely from the bunker library to Dean’s room now; the room’s starting to look cluttered, between the extra books, and the t-shirts and jeans Cas sometimes wears now draped over a chair, along with all of Dean’s stuff. “Lived in” is the term humans use for it, and it isn’t as if Dean wasn’t living in this room before. But it does look different now.

Turning carefully onto his back so he doesn’t wake Dean, Cas stares up at the drape of sheets overhead.

* * *

Click-snap. Click-snap.

“Dean, what--”

“Blanket fort.” Dean grinned and flopped back down onto the bed, making the memory foam shake. 

“All right.” Cas sat down on the edge of the bed. It was past midnight, and the rumble of thunder from the Kansas storm sounded like the distant beat of wings in the heat of battle.

They still weren’t any closer to figuring out how to stop the Mark of Cain from jumping around, or why reapers kept showing up to stalk Dean, quietly, from across the street, under a tree, at the edge of the cemetery where the Winchesters did a salt-and-burn.

Sam had been researching it non-stop with help from Kevin and Charlie unless they were out on a hunt. The two seemed to make a good team and they’d taken to teasing each other relentlessly, in ways Cas had observed Sam and Dean do at times when they needed to blow off steam.

If there’s one thing Cas had learned from his time with Sam and Dean Winchester it was that while blood ties were powerful, family also arrived in all forms and shapes and reasons.

“Come on, Cas. Take a load off.” Dean stretched out on the bed, propped his head on one crooked elbow, and patted the mattress.

Another rumble of distant thunder. Cas stood still a moment, listening to the thunder, feeling his own heartbeat in his chest, taking in the way Dean looked -- stretched out, muscles softened, fully at ease, the hard vigilance and soldier’s readiness held within arm’s reach all put aside, staring at Cas with eyes both fond and hungry. Dean licked his lips and Cas had no idea if Dean did that on purpose or not, or if he even entirely knew the effect he had. Cas suspected, at least, that Dean had some idea. He was, after all, extremely good at finding one-night stands (or used to be, when he did that sort of thing).

Cas, wearing only a Rolling Stones t-shirt he’d borrowed from Dean and a pair of boxer shorts, lowered himself onto the bed, stretching out to match Dean, facing him.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said. Boom. Crash. Thunder.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Dean why did you make a blanket fort?”

“Dunno.” Dean reached out and cradled Cas’s jaw, then traced his fingers up the side of Cas’s face and into his hair. “Read about it. Charlie told me about doing it when she was a kid and it sounded...fun. There’s a thunderstorm.”

He knew from Dean’s stories it wasn’t just Charlie who’d built blanket forts as a kid. Dean had told him about riding out thunderstorms in motel rooms with Sam when they were children. But Dean wasn’t afraid of thunderstorms, so why a blanket fort, why now? There were times when Cas understood Dean with overwhelming flashes of clarity, down through the layers, with an intensity that hurt as he recognized the hurt and love and pain and hope buried there. At other times, Dean was an endless interlocking puzzle where Cas could see all the pieces but wasn’t sure what they all meant. He intended to never stop trying. 

Dean didn’t seem scared right now, but there were unanswered questions and a fight that never ended. Maybe, maybe now that they were together like this, with Dean leaning in to kiss Cas and Cas shifting his body closer, running his palm along Dean’s arm then sliding up under his t-shirt to stroke warm, freckled skin as he kissed Dean back, that just added to the list of all fears. Cas had watched as Dean shattered from loss, or fear of loss, and it had taken him a long time to understand how much of that included Cas himself.

Cas pulled out of the kiss and drew back to look at Dean’s face a moment. 

“What?” Dean said.

“Nothing...nothing,” Cas answered, and kissed Dean again. 

He slid his tongue in over Dean’s, moving his hand down to cup Dean through his sweatpants. Dean’s breath caught as Cas’s fingers started working at him, slowly, then quickening the movement of his hand. Cas very much enjoyed the small groan Dean let out at that. Through the fabric, Cas felt Dean hardening. 

Cas slipped the fingers of his other hand under the elastic of the sweatpants and started to tug them down. Dean hastily fumbled to help, then kicked the sweatpants free. That complete, unashamed, gleeful eagerness was one of the things that always made Cas’s human heart race faster, made him grow harder, made him viscerally feel what he’d only comprehended clinically for thousands of years.

Thunder rumbled again. Before Cas could get his hands back on Dean, Dean was tugging down his boxer shorts and had his hand around Cas’s dick, stroking gently as his put his mouth over Cas’s. 

It was ridiculous, how little self-restraint Cas had about this. Sex was usually a mere pleasant curiosity to him, not a fierce need; he was an angel, and a trained soldier at that. But sometimes that mattered a whole lot less when he was with Dean. It didn’t seem to matter at all as he thrust his hips up into Dean’s touch and let out a groan against Dean’s mouth, his fingers sliding over Dean’s skin and their bodies caught against the hanging sheets.

Their breaths went faster, in between kisses. Dean paused to spit into his palm and lick it, slowly, gaze never leaving Cas’s face, before he went back to work; Cas knew how to do this by now as well, how it made things more pleasurable. He licked his own palm, closed his fingers around Dean’s dick again and stroked faster and harder than before. Dean’s breath hitched noisily, eyes growing heavy-lidded with pleasure. 

As usual, Dean didn’t seem like he would stand for being out-done. He stroked one finger, agonizingly slow and light, up along the underside of Cas’s dick and down again, then cupped his fingers around it. With quick, hard movements, he forced Cas to lose his concentration and rhythm. Only a moment though, as Cas too quickened his fingers on Dean and put his tongue and lips and teeth to Dean’s neck, licking and sucking until Dean was whimpering. His free hand crept around Cas’s lower back and with no warning, he pushed one finger into Cas’s hole, which sent a shock of startled pleasure through Cas’s body, like electricity, like fire.

“You like that Cas, huh?” Dean murmured into Cas’s ear. “Tell me you like it.”

“Yes,” Cas gasped out.

“How much?” Dean kept up what he was doing with his hand on Cas’s dick, but his finger now only lightly brushed against his hole and it was unbearable.

“I like it,” Cas said, around another gasp.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I said, I like it,” Cas hissed out. “Now shut up and do something about it.” In response, instantly, Dean thrust two fingers deep inside. Things got very hazy, but Cas managed to hold Dean a bit tighter, stroke even harder. 

Another boom-crack of thunder and they both came, shuddering together. Their fingers were sticky, coated with each other, and Dean raised his to his own mouth and licked some of it off, grinning around his thumb down at Cas.

Then Dean lay back again next to Cas, still grinning a little. He hooked his ankle around Cas’s calf and Cas draped an arm across Dean’s chest. He kissed Dean’s shoulder. 

They worked well together in battle, communicating without words, anticipating each other’s movements, but this was another kind of unity. It wasn’t just Dean’s pliability here, the softness revealed beneath the hard muscles and warrior vigilance, it was Cas sensing his own, too. It seemed a little dangerous, yet warm and welcoming at the same time. 

Dean’s fingers traced lazily and softly up along Cas’s arm, tickling the hairs, and Cas grinned then too, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder.

* * *

Dean stirs and wakes, blinking sleepily at Cas, For a split second it’s like he’s startled to see Cas there in Dean’s bed, and then the next second, there is something almost like relief that things are as they should be. Cas wonders if Dean was having a nightmare just now, but Dean was resting peacefully and Cas doesn’t ask. 

Putting his arm across Cas’s chest, Dean pulls him closer, the sheets of the blanket fort brushing against them, stirring slightly from their movements and the bunker’s air system. Cas nests his chin against Dean’s shoulder, his hair against Dean’s cheek. Cas isn’t going anywhere.

They stay like that for a long time, listening together as the storm moves away.


End file.
